


Peppermint and Gingerbread

by serpentunder_t



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Party, F/M, Mistletoe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2015-08-22
Packaged: 2018-04-16 14:22:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4628568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serpentunder_t/pseuds/serpentunder_t
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie's been missing, and returns just in time for Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my god so I know its August but I'm so over summer I'm already thinking about Christmas and I love winter holidays so much so here's some crazy early holiday cheer ??  
> Un-beta'd as ever, enjoy!

It had been half a year since the end of the Patriot War and things were finally settling down. Bass and Miles had become advisors to Blanchard together, normally with Charlie in toe. But while they had settled into their lives in Texas, Charlie had taken off over a month and a half ago in the middle of the night, leaving Rachel beside herself. Bass had watched as Miles tried to calm her, even going so far as to send men looking for Charlie but they had returned empty handed.

Bass knew, however. He knew why Charlie had left, he’d seen it in her eyes every time the action died down. The way she’d start staring off into distance, lost in her own thoughts, pulling herself through the torture time and time again. He’d felt for her, and on the brief instances he’d managed to get her to open up, usually with a couple bottles of whiskey, she’d talk as if everything she’d done had happened to someone else. She never mentioned Jason, or Danny, or Nora. Those names were off limits, sure fire ways to push her away. He never asked, never had to; he had understood too well for either of them.

But she’d still left. Without a goodbye. He’d told himself a million times that she didn’t owe him any explanations, but the abandonment stung like a splinter he couldn’t get out.

So he stood on the Porter’s porch, waiting to enter the party Miles and Gene had pushed Rachel into throwing, thinking it would breathe some life back into her. _Christmas._ Bass shook his head to himself, what was Christmas without snow? Fucking Texas.

But the door swung wide open and he was ushered inside, caught by the hustle and bustle of the holiday. Miles had hacked down a small pine tree for the living room, which had been covered in various old and broken ornaments. Bass gazed at it, missing the full pine trees of the north and the riches of the Republic that had granted him the best decorations diamonds could buy. He’d always loved Christmas, even post-Blackout. But as he wandered around the room he saw the delicate details the Porters and Miles had painstakingly poured over for the last few weeks. It was a party the likes of which Willoughby hadn’t seen in a long time, and almost the whole town had turned out for the event, spilling into the back yard. A warm fire crackled away merrily in the hearth, joined by a giant bonfire outside. Bows of garland covered every available surface that wasn’t claimed by drinks or food.

Bass made his rounds, nodding to the people that didn’t still hate him, before finding a secluded corner to nurse his drink in. He watched as the people around him laughed and smiled, and he could feel his eyes clouding over. He was lost in thoughts of a time when his mother would throw lavish holiday parties and he and Miles would steal the beer and get wasted in his room. His mother always had their yard lit up like a card by the first of December, and his house smelt of gingerbread, peppermint, and their giant Christmas tree all month long. He ached for those days, for watching his sisters open their presents from Santa, for the warmth and love that had enveloped him each Christmas, surrounded by his family. He was far away from his mother’s embrace or the sweet hugs of his sisters. Bass sniffed, shaking his head slightly, trying to clear the unshed tears from his eyes. It had been too long since he’d been caught in the web of his past, and he couldn’t afford to get lost now.

He looked up, and almost choked on his sip of whiskey. She looked like a ghost, standing silently, unnoticed. Charlie was standing in the kitchen doorway, surveying the crowd as if she was about to go into battle. Her mother and Miles were in the living room, entertaining their guests, so when she took a tentative step through the threshold, Bass shot up.

He felt it the moment her eyes found him, her gaze as powerful and demanding as ever. It took everything in him not to sprint to her, not to shake her and curse her for leaving. But instead he steadied his breath and walked slowly. They met in the middle and as Bass looked down at the young woman before him his relief at seeing her turned to pure rage.

“What the hell Charlotte?” He tried to keep his voice down so as to not attach attention, but his anger was clear.

She looked up at him with those damn blue eyes, like sapphires in the moonlight, “What?”

“Where the fuck did you go? We were worried sick! Miles sent men looking for you!” He tried to keep the venom behind his words.

Charlie shrugged. “I needed some air.”

“For over a month?” He was almost yelling now, caught up in the raw emotion he’d been denying himself since she’d left. “If you need air you take a walk, you have a drink, you don’t up and vanish Charlie!”

For the first time she turned her eyes from his, looking down, ashamed, “I just-” But before she could continue Gene came into the kitchen and stopped dead, staring at his granddaughter.

“Charlie?” It was barely above a whisper, reminding Bass of prayers muttered in empty churches to an unknown God.

“Grandpa.” And before she’d completed his name, Gene had crossed the kitchen and was embracing her. Bass watched as she remained stiff, finally after several moments raising her arms to tentatively return his hug.

“Your mother will be so thankful you’re home,” And just like that Gene had grabbed her by the hand and was hauling her away from Bass. She looked back, her gaze finding his. He stared back as if to say, ‘you left, this is what you get.’ He wasn’t going to save her from a family reunion.

Bass turned on his heel, moving to the counter to fix himself another drink, this time something stronger. He could hear the muffled reunion and happy exclamations coming from the other room, deciding this was not a scene he would be intruding on he focused on his drink.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed before Miles came catapulting into the kitchen, “She’s back Bass! Charlie’s here!” His face was lit up like the Christmas tree would’ve been before the blackout.

He just sipped his drink, “I know.”

Miles started, “You know?”

“Yeah, I saw her before Gene did. She was looking for you guys.” He lied smoothly, attempting to soothe the wound Charlie had left on Miles when she’d left. He nodded, motioning for Bass to rejoin the party. Sighing, Bass followed his best friend and part time enemy into the lion’s den.

Rachel had her arms around Charlie’s shoulders while Gene hovered close behind his two girls. Bass blended himself back into the crowd of party goers while Miles returned to Rachel’s side, smiling as if he’d just gotten a new bike from Santa. But Charlie’s eyes found his, as they’d always had a tendency to do. He could feel her watching him as he slipped into the fold, before turning and meeting her gaze with a purposefully unwavering amount of apathy. He watched her brow crinkle slightly, her mouth barely forming a pout, but enough for Bass to notice. He just brought his glass to his lips, never breaking the eye contact.

If she wanted to pull stunts like that than she’d get no sympathy from him when she have to deal with the consequences. And in this case the consequences were a fucked up family reunion. Or at least, that’s what Bass tried to tell himself.

He was so fucking furious with her, for leaving without a word, for scaring her family, for scaring him. But he’d understood it, even if he didn’t want to. Even now, he knew his anger was partly an act. But damn if he was going to let Charlie know that.

As time passed Rachel’s grip on Charlie loosened, allowing her to breath. Miles had gotten her a drink, and now she was on her third without the notice of her mother. In the time since the excitement of her return had died down somewhat, Bass had been able to take note of her appearance. She was the same old Charlie, as strong and beautiful as ever. But the blonde highlights of her hair were slightly lighter, and freckles speckled her tan lean arms, evidence of the elements. She was wearing what once may have been a fairly fancy flowing shirt, but it had become disheveled with age. It was clear, however, that she’d tried to appear clean, a difficult feat post blackout. She’d been unable to get the dust from riding out of her tight jeans and her hair. Her boots were mud speckled and something that almost looked like blood, but Bass couldn’t be sure. He observed, silently, as the woman he’d grown to care for made her way around the room of her adoring admirers. It was hard to tell through the crowd but Bass could’ve sworn she was favoring her left side, and she clearly had something strapped to her under her shirt. Probably a knife, or a gun, it was Charlie Matheson after all. It wouldn’t have surprised him if it was a grenade. Damn Mathesons.

He was leaning in the entrance way when someone poked his shoulder and he had to steady himself from jumping. President (or ex-President) Monroe did not get startled.

He turned, knowing whose eyes he’d find. “What’s that?” He followed Charlie’s eyes above them.

Bass wanted to smack himself. No, he wanted to go shoot something, have a drink, and then smack himself. Instead, he settled for rolling his eyes, “Mistletoe.” He fought to keep the slight shudder from creeping to the surface.

Charlie’s eyes stayed questioning, “It’s a plant used in this silly Christmas tradition. Your mom must’ve put it up as a joke.”

“I know what Mistletoe is you nitwit.”

At that, Bass tilted his head, looking at her and fighting back a laugh. “Then why did you ask?”

“Because I wasn’t sure you’d seen it.” Bass huffed in reply. “You know the rules Bass.” Her tone was teasing, sultry. And he could feel a pull below his belt that he valiantly ignored.

But before he could speak, Charlie was on her tip toes, wrapping her hand behind his neck, her fingers lacing through his curls. She was bringing him down to her level and his breathing hitched, eyes searching hers. And then her lips brushed against his, it was gentle and warm. Her eyes fluttered closed as his hand brushed her cheek. It wasn’t hot burning passion, but he could almost taste the apology on her breath, and somehow that drove a stake into his heart in a way that he’d never imagined possible. He wanted to drag her to him, but instead he let her mouth drift from his, their faces still centimeters apart. They stayed like that, lost in time, until Charlie let out a sharp exhale and jumped away from him like he was on fire.

Bass’s mind cleared instantly, searching Charlie for the cause of her pain. Looking down at the hand he’d moved to her waist he saw the faint trace of blood that had seeped through her shirt. “Charlie!” He was reaching for her but she was too fast, darting away like a cat. He’d tried to follow her, but Charlie was nothing if not a master of escaping Sebastian Monroe.

Finally Bass found her sitting outside, leaning against the big old oak tree they’d once used as target practice. He crouched down, sitting beside her on the cold earth.

“Charlotte.”

“I’m sorry.” Her words shocked him into fear, worry spilling into every cell in his body as he hummed with energy, fighting to keep from overwhelming her.

“For what?”

“Leaving.” A small tear reflected from the glow of the dying bonfire, and Bass couldn’t help himself from marveling at the strength of the woman before him.

“I know.” He gently wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her to him. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too Bass.” His nickname sounded like sin on her tongue, and if hearing her say it was blasphemous than he would gladly spend the rest of his days burning.

“We’ve got to get you fixed up Charlie.” He felt her nod against his shoulder. He moved his head to rest above hers, feeling as her breathing steadied.

He felt himself drifting off to sleep, comforted by Charlie’s breathing beside him. He felt warm, even in the chilly air, and safe beside the strongest woman he’d ever met. Maybe it was a dream, but he could’ve sworn he smelled peppermint and gingerbread.


	2. Chapter 2

Bass woke with a start, the bark from the tree digging painfully into his lower back. Charlie was still asleep beside him, but as he looked her up and down Bass’ stomach twisted.

Her breathing was labored and even in the dark he could tell the blood was still seeping through her shirt. “Charlie. Charlie wake up!” He tried to shake her without hurting her, but she only moaned and buried her face back into his chest.

Their nap cut short by the urgency of Charlie’s condition, Bass scooped her up and made his way inside. Bass wanted to wring his hands, how had he let them fall asleep? He hadn’t thought Charlie’s injuries were more than a cut, but the blood loss must’ve gotten to her. There was no other way that Charlie Matheson would let him carry her anywhere. Bass didn’t register the faces of partygoers as he made a beeline for Charlie’s old bedroom. Somewhere along the line, Gene and Rachel had started following, shooting him questions he couldn’t answer.

When Bass deposited her sleeping body on the small mattress, the absence of her felt like a swift kick to the gut. But he stood, and with two long strides had left the room, leaving Gene to do his job and fix his granddaughter.

Time passed, Bass paced, the party ended and there were empty glasses and plates littering the home. He tried cleaning up, but after five minutes he gave up. He couldn’t bring himself to clean while Charlie was upstairs possibly fighting for her life. This was his fault, he should’ve known.

Bass was lost in his whisky bottle when Miles came down the stairs. “She’s okay.” Bass nodded, watching as Miles fixed himself another drink. “She’d been stabbed.” He punctuated his words with sips of whiskey, “Had it fixed up, but Gene says whoever did it botched it. If you ask me Charlie probably did it herself, but either way, the stitches broke loose and she’d been losing blood for a while without anyone noticing.” Bass could hear the shudder in his friend’s words, the self-blame at not being there for his niece.

“She’s awake!” Gene’s yell carried down the stairs, as both Miles and Bass shot up, heading for the small room where Charlie was.

Bass hung back, letting Miles and Rachel fawn over her as Gene told them she’d need a few days of bedrest, but then she’d be as good as new. Relief flooded his body as Charlie’s eyes found his in the candle light.

The look she sent him told him more than her words ever could, and he returned it with a look of pure relief, before turning on his heel and leaving the small family.

 

It had been four days since the party, and Bass was preparing for another trip to Austin. He planned to leave in two days, the day after Christmas. But the shock at seeing Charlie in the stables, feeding a carrot to his favorite horse, sent a chill down his spine.

“Aren’t you supposed to be resting?”

“The doctor cleared me.”

Bass let out a low sigh, “Congrats.” Charlie just nodded, and they stood there in silence for a while before Bass spoke again. “So you gonna tell anyone what happened or just let them worry forever?” He knew she hadn’t told Miles or the Porters, because Miles had been bitching about it all yesterday.

“It was stupid, I just,” her voice caught, “Plains Nation, ya know?” She tried to seem nonchalant, but Bass could hear the pain behind her words, remembering the last time she’d gotten in trouble in the Plains Nation. The anger that flashed across his face at the memory of seeing her drugged in that bar couldn’t be contained as he let out a low growl.

“What happened Charlotte?”

Her eyes turned up to his, steel, “Nothing. I handled it this time.” Pride swept through him, knowing that of course she could take care of herself. She didn’t have to explain anymore, he knew what had happened without her putting words to it.

“Why’d you come home?” He blurted it out without fully meaning to, but the question had been eating at him. Charlie wasn’t one to come home to lick her wounds, she’d rather die in the mud and the dust.

She shuffled at her feet, “The party. I saw a poster for it on my way through to Mexico.”

“Are you gonna stay?” It was barely above a whisper, like he didn’t want to jinx her answer by speaking out loud.

But Charlie couldn’t meet his eyes, and he had his answer. The war was over, but Charlie still had too many battles left in her. She had too much bloodlust just beneath the surface and too much anger to learn how to knit or make soap. Bass felt it too, the draw to the fight, but Charlie had given in to it.

Bass wasn’t sure what came over him when he spoke next, “Want some company?”

She just looked at him, studying his face as if trying to reading his thoughts. His breath was shallow, waiting and strangely nervous. “Yeah.” She spoke, soft and subtle, but with enough emotion behind it that Bass felt his chest rise.

 

Christmas day brought Bass sitting between Charlie and Miles around their makeshift tree, while Rachel opened a small gift of earrings from Miles. The letter for President Blanchard, addressed to Walnut and explaining that he’d taken on a different mission, was burning a hole in his pocket.

As Rachel oohed and awed over the earrings, Bass made his way into the kitchen for another drink. On his way back to the excitement he was met by Charlie’s long hair and piercing stare. She glanced up between them and Bass understood. They were caught once more under the same sprig of mistletoe. He rolled his eyes slightly for effect before lowering himself to her level.

This time her lips didn’t feel like an apology, but a promise as they burned against his own. She fisted her hands in his shirt and dragged him closer, deepening their kiss and drawing a slight moan from his lips as her tongue ran against his bottom lip. Out of sight of the happy family around the Christmas tree, Bass hooked his arms around her thighs and hoisted her off the ground, spinning until her back slammed into the wall. Oxygen didn’t seem like an important thing while he could feel her breasts heaving against his chest. She bit his lower lip and dragged away, his pants growing tight, before she moved her mouth to his jaw. Charlie was like a tornado, a force of nature to be feared and respected. She swept her way across the valleys of his neck, laying waste without apology or explanation.

It wasn’t until Bass heard the creak of a chair from the other room that he finally let Charlie’s feet find solid ground. They broke apart just in time for Gene to round the corner.

Bass could’ve sworn he saw something resembling mischief in Gene’s eyes as he flashed them a smile and grabbed the platter of food, which much to his disbelief, included a handful of gingerbread cookies.

**Author's Note:**

> I swear I thought about waiting to post this until it at least wasn't averaging 80 degrees Fahrenheit every day, but maybe if I focus hard enough on winter all the bugs will die. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
